


Keep Me Safe (Save Me From The World)

by flipflop_diva



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Awesome Sam Wilson, BAMF Natasha Romanov, F/M, Kidnapping, Mind Control, Multi, Natasha Feels, Natasha Needs a Hug, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve, Red Room, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Season 2, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4485720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It became a pattern. Every day she would disappear, and every night she would come back. Sometimes she’d go to Sam, always calling it a “distraction” or a “game,” and other times she’d crawl in bed with Steve. She never said a word about where she went, and they never asked. But every morning Steve woke up to find her next to him. Until the day he didn't. </p><p>And thus starts a race against time to protect Natasha from the past that is coming back to haunt her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Me Safe (Save Me From The World)

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic almost a year ago now, and I've finally, finally finished it! (The other chapters will be posted shortly.) Pretty sure it's become a labor of love for me. I'm posting it now as part of the [WIP Big Bang](http://wipbigbang.livejournal.com). And here is my amazing art from my artist, Amoredition. Give kudos [here](http://amoredition.tumblr.com/post/124889917382/art-i-made-for-flipflop-divas-story-keep-me-safe) or [here](http://amoredition.livejournal.com/4396.html)!
> 
>  

The first time it happened with Sam was when Steve was still unconscious in the hospital. Sam wanted a distraction, Natasha needed a distraction, and together they were a great distraction.

“So I’m thinking you wouldn’t want Steve to know about this?” Sam breathed as his fingers delved between her legs and his mouth sucked on her neck as they balanced precariously on buckets in an empty storage room they had found on Steve’s floor.

“I’m thinking you shouldn’t be thinking about Steve when you’re fucking me,” she replied.

“I’m not.”

“Good. Now get back to work.” And she pushed his head down lower.

The first time it happened with Steve was the night of Fury’s “funeral” when she told them she was going away for a long time. He woke when it was still pitch black outside to the feel of the bed dipping slightly with additional weight.

"Nat?" he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Sam only has one guest room," she whispered back. "Do you really think I'm going to sleep on the couch?"

"No. What are you doing _here_?"

"You ask too many questions, Rogers."

"At least I don't break into people's houses in the middle of the night."

"I'm not breaking in. Sam loves me. He said I could stop by any time."

"Nat ..."

"Shut up." And then she kissed him.

He didn’t kiss her back. Instead he pulled away and squinted, trying to get a good look at her through the darkness.

“What are you doing?”

“Didn’t I just say you ask too many questions?”

“Natasha …”

“ _Don’t_ ask questions.” And this time he heard it. A very faint tremor in her voice, so slight he doubted anyone else — had anyone else been in the room with them — would have noticed it.

“Natasha,” he said again. He squinted more, trying to adjust his eyes. He could make out her figure in the dark — she was leaning over him, her arms bracing herself on either side of him — but he couldn’t read the expression on her face. She shifted her head a little, pulling back, and he saw her eyes glint.

And then it came. _“Please.”_ A hint of a whisper, barely more than a breath, and his will power snapped. He knew there was something she wasn’t telling him, something important, but he also knew she wasn’t going to talk if she didn’t want to.

He reached up, placed both his palms on either side of her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. Then slowly, he drew her to him, pressed his lips against hers. Softly, gently.

She closed her eyes and kissed him back. 

And then she sped up, her hands finding the hem of his t-shirt and tugging it upward, then a few seconds later yanking her own tank top over her head and unsnapping her bra immediately after.

He barely had time to think about what was happening, but he didn’t stop it. He thought about it, but her lips were on his and her hands were clawing at him and she was pressed against him and she felt so strong but at the same time so small and vulnerable and then her eyes flickered and there was something in them he couldn’t quite grasp so he let her do what she wanted.

But when he was holding her against him, buried deep inside her, her muscles just starting to tense, and his right hand was curling itself into her hair and his left arm was wrapped around her, drawing her even closer to him, his lips found her ear and he whispered to her, “You know you can trust me, right?” She sucked in a breath as she blinked up at him, and then she shattered around him, her muffled cry ringing in his ears.

He didn’t let go of her as her breathing steadied and he felt her heartbeat return to normal. He just held her tightly against him.

“You know I’m not going to just let you leave,” he whispered to her.

“I know.”

“You better still be here in the morning.”

“I will be.”

“Okay.”

•••

He woke up to the sun blazing into his eyes and Natasha sitting next to him, still naked, her legs pulled to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. She had one arm wrapped around her legs, and the other hand was playing with the sheets beside her.

He propped himself up on an elbow. “You want to tell me what that was about last night?”

“No.”

“I thought you left.”

“I came back.”

“I see that. And you’re not going to tell me why?”

“Nope.”

“Natasha …”

She moved her head. Barely a fraction of an inch. He knew what it meant. Loud and clear. _No._

Steve sighed. He reached out a hand, placed it on her calf, rubbed her leg soothingly. “Someday you might want to trust me.”

“I trust you.”

“Do you really? Because it doesn’t seem like you do.”

She turned her head to look at him. Her upper lip curled up, but her expression remained serious.

“Did it ever occur to you,” she said, “that it’s me I don’t trust?”

•••

Sam didn’t say a word when they walked into the kitchen together thirty minutes later, both of them dressed, but Steve didn’t miss the look in his eyes that he gave to Natasha. She didn’t react, just sat down at the table and smiled.

“You’re back,” Sam said.

“I don’t like making my own breakfast.”

“I think you just missed us.”

“I don’t ever miss anyone.”

“If you say so.”

•••

They waited until they were sure she was in the shower to talk. They were sitting together at the kitchen table, draining the last of the coffee in the pot.

“You slept with her,” Steve said. He knew it was true, but he needed to say it.

“No,” Sam said instantly. “Well, yes. But before. Not last night. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what?”

“You and her ….”

“Oh,” Steve said. He ran a hand through his hair. “There isn’t …. We aren’t … It was the first time.”

Sam nodded. “But you like her.”

“I don’t really think that matters.”

“I disagree. I think that matters a great deal.”

Steve cracked a smile. “Have you met Natasha? I don’t think that matters.”

Sam laughed. “I have. And I think she has a soft spot for you.”

“She’s hiding something.” Steve’s tone turned serious. “She didn’t come back because she missed us.”

“What do you think it could be?”

“Of that, I have no idea.”

•••

She disappeared later that afternoon.

“Maybe we should follow her,” Sam mused as the front door clicked behind her.

“No.”

“You’re faster than her. You could do it.”

“I know. And she would know if I did.”

“Would that be so bad?”

Steve nodded. “I told her she could trust us. I want her to know I meant it.”

“You think she’ll ever tell us?”

“When she’s ready. And if it’s important enough.”

•••

Sam found her in his bedroom that night when he stepped out of the shower, only one small towel wrapped around his waist. She was perched on the end of his bed, clad only in a black lace bra and matching panties.

“Natasha,” he gasped, and she smirked.

“I thought we could have some fun,” she said.

“Umm.” He checked the towel to make sure it wasn’t going to fall. “I’m not sure that would be such a good idea.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And why not?”

“You slept with Steve.”

She frowned. “I’ve slept with many men.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. But you did sleep with Steve. Last night even.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal.”

“Because he’s your friend?”

“Because he’s my friend. And because he _likes_ you.”

She frowned more, the creases between her brows deepening. 

“It didn’t mean anything,” she said.

“To _you_.”

“Look,” she said, and she raised herself up on her knees. She reached behind her and half a second later she slung her bra across the room. Sam felt himself harden at the sight, and it took every ounce of will power he had not to just jump her right there. “All of this. It’s just some fun. We all need it.”

She reached down and slid her panties down her legs. Sam tried to look away, but how could he? The hottest woman he had ever met was now sliding up his bed, lying down on his pillow and spreading her legs for him.

“Damn it, Romanoff,” he growled.

She smirked and open her legs further, reaching between them with her right hand. He watched as she inserted a finger and moaned.

“Come on. Don’t make me have fun all by myself,” she groaned.

He dropped the towel.

•••

Steve woke up the next morning to find Natasha curled against his side, this time dressed in what he assumed was one of Sam’s dress shirts and nothing else but a pair of white panties. 

He wasn’t sure if he should wake her up and ask her what she was doing — it wasn’t like he hadn’t heard her and Sam last night. The apartment wasn’t exactly soundproof and they weren’t exactly quiet. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t spent the whole time convincing himself he had no reason to be upset because she was never his and she made no illusions that she wanted to be — or let her sleep and hope when she was ready, she would confide in him. He was more sure than ever that something was really wrong. He knew Natasha liked to play games, but this was beyond a game and he had a feeling she was trying to distract them with it. Maybe even distract herself. But he had no idea what the problem could be and he had no idea how to get her to tell him without prying.

In the end, he let her be. He wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her back, wishing again she would let him in so he could actually help her, and then when he saw her begin to stir, he kissed her on the temple and slid out of bed. Ten minutes later, as he sipped on coffee with Sam, she slid into the seat beside him and chirped “Good morning, boys.” An hour later, she disappeared out the door again.

It became a pattern. Every day she would disappear, and every night she would come back. Sometimes she’d go to Sam, always calling it a “distraction” or a “game,” and other times she’d crawl in bed with Steve. Sometimes they had sex, and other times she just let him hold her, her arms wrapped around him and her head on his chest.

She never said a word about where she went, and neither Sam nor Steve ever asked. But every morning Steve woke up to find her next to him.

Until one morning, sixteen days after the first time. 

The bright red lights of the bedside clock read 4:18, but the apartment was strangely quiet. The pillow beside him was untouched and there was no sound of anyone breathing but him.

He was out of bed in an instant, a knot already formed in the pit of his stomach. He knocked on Sam’s bedroom door. Barely thirty seconds later, it opened.

The look on Sam’s face matched the feeling in Steve’s gut.

“Get dressed,” Steve said, and Sam didn’t ask questions. “We’re going to find her.”

They stood in the living room five minutes later, Steve with his shield, Sam with his wings, both of them with extra weapons tucked under waistbands of clothes.

“Where do we look?”

“I have no idea,” Steve answered. He knew Natasha didn’t have a phone on her that they could track, and she certainly had never offered them any clues. “But I know who might.”

He picked up his own phone and dialed a familiar number. The phone picked up on the first ring and the person on the other end didn’t even sound sleepy, despite it being just half past four in the morning.

“Hill.”

“I need to know what Natasha’s been up to,” he said without pretense.

She didn’t even pause. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you that.”

“You’re saying you don’t know?”

“I’m saying if she wanted you to know, she would have told you.”

“Even if she’s in trouble?”

“Is she?”

“Yes.”

This time there was a pause. A long one. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Tell me what she’s been up to.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “She wouldn’t tell me.”

“But you know something?”

“She wanted Stark’s help. She called him last week.”

“With what?”

“I’ll call you back in five minutes.” She hung up. Steve looked at Sam.

“Hill,” Steve said. “She’ll call us back.”

“You really think Maria can help us find Natasha?”

“Nat’s not stupid. She might not have told us what’s going on, but she wouldn’t do something reckless.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“That’s a ‘I really hope so.’”

Four minutes later, Steve’s phone rang.

“He said she wanted him to help her get hold of some weapons. More powerful than what she has. But she didn’t give him details.”

“He didn’t ask her?”

“He said she told him she owed him, and it seemed important, so he left it at that.”

Steve pondered this. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” he finally said. “Tony doesn’t do favors like that for no reason.”

On the other end, Maria hesitated.

“Tell me,” Steve said.

“Tony said she was scared. … And he’s never known her to be scared.”

•••

They stood on the roof of the neighboring complex, staring into the dark city.

“Where do we look?” Sam asked. “Back alleys? Abandoned warehouses? Deserted roads?”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “If she was scared, she wouldn’t hide. She’d want to be in plain sight. Around other people.”

“Around other people …” Sam mused. Then his head jerked up. “The Mall,” he said. “Where else are there always people in D.C.?”

•••

Steve’s gut was working overtime by the time they landed on the far end of the National Mall, the dark of night hiding them from sight of any other people who might be out for early, early morning runs.

“She’s here,” he told Sam. “I feel it.”

Sam studied him, a bit unbelieving. “What? You have Black Widow tracking powers now?”

Steve shook his head. “I just know her.”

Sam smirked. “You really do have it bad for that girl, don’t you?”

Steve frowned. “This is not about … We need to _find_ her.”

“I know. I know. I was just saying ...”

“Well, say it later. Let’s go.”

Sam took the left. Steve took the right, stepping into a quick jog. His eyes scanned everywhere as he ran, trying to peer behind monuments and around trees. There were a few other people on the paths, but no one who looked suspicious or took notice of him. 

He’d almost made it to the halfway point — he could see Sam drawing nearer to him on the other side — and he was beginning to wonder if they had been mistaken when he saw it.

A flash of motion behind a tree. 

He knew in an instant it was her. He tore off the path at full speed. Darting through trees.

And then he froze.

She was leaning heavily against a tree trunk, like she couldn’t support herself any longer. Her hair was tangled and knotted, her face was dirty and he could see a rip in her jacket, but otherwise, she looked fine. Except for the expression on her face.

Eyes wide, breathing shallow. Her face, even in the darkness, shone white and he could see a shimmer of sweat.

“Natasha,” he whispered.

She blinked at him, like she wasn’t sure it was him, and then she pushed herself off the tree. She took a step toward him, and her legs gave out.

He grabbed her before she hit the ground, cradling her against his chest.

She was shaking, her entire body trembling against him. And then something even worse happened. She choked back a sob and her fingernails dug into his chest.

He didn’t wait. He scooped her up in his arms, one arm under her knees and the other around her back, and he sped back the way he had come, almost plowing into Sam, who took one look at her and then stared at Steve in horror.

“Can you fly us all back?” Steve asked.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “She’s small, but you’re … errr.”

“Just try.”

Sam nodded. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then his wings popped out and he left the ground. 

“This might hurt,” Sam warned, hovering just above Steve’s head.

“Just do it.”

Sam grabbed him under the arm, and the three of them shot into the air — or shot as much as Sam could with all the extra weight — Sam gripping Steve as hard as he could and Steve still cradling Natasha who he could tell was now openly crying against his chest. 

It was the longest ten minutes of Steve’s life, his heart in his throat the whole time. He’d never seen her cry before, a lone tear for Fury the only exception. He hadn’t even realized it was something she did. It made him want to keep her wrapped in the safety of his arms forever.

It also scared him more than almost anything else ever had.

They pretty much crash landed in Sam's backyard, both Steve and Sam falling to their knees, but Steve managed to keep hold of Natasha, shielding her against his body with his arms.

"We are not doing that again," Sam said as he struggled to his feet.

He turned his head to look at Natasha, and Steve looked down as well. He could see her better now that the sun was beginning its ascent into the sky. She had stopped crying at some point during their trip through the air, but her eyes were still wide with fear and her face was still pale and her hands were still locked around Steve’s neck, like she was never planning to let go.

Steve carried her inside, laying her down on the couch and prying her fingers loose. Sam covered her up with a blanket and went into the kitchen to make tea. Steve moved to follow him, needing a moment to sort through his thoughts, but her hand attached itself to his arm before he could get anywhere.

She didn't say anything, but he could read the unspoken request in her eyes.

He sank down on the floor beside her, letting his arm drape across her body. When Sam entered the room five minutes later, Natasha had her eyes closed, breathing deeply through her mouth, and Steve was running his fingers through the red locks on the side of her head.

Sam held out a steaming mug. Steve dropped his hand to Natasha’s shoulder.

“Nat,” he said, shaking her gently.

She opened her eyes, twisting just slightly to see Sam. She struggled to sit up, and Steve grabbed her shoulders to help pull her upright. When she was ready, her back against the couch cushions, her legs on the ground, Sam handed her the mug, and she took it without a word. He sank to the ground beside Steve, both of them on either side of her legs.

Natasha didn’t say a word, just sipped on her tea, and Steve watched the looks Sam was sending him that he didn’t know how to answer and wondered how long was too long until it was appropriate to ask her to start talking. He knew without a doubt that she probably didn’t want to talk to them at all, but that was no longer an option. _Something_ had happened out there. Something that had scared her. He had known her for two-plus years now, had been partnered with her countless times and the first time he had ever seen her composure crack was when Fury died. But even that, even what happened with Zola and SHIELD firing on them, was nothing compared to this.

The look on her face back there at the monument. The way she had cried into his chest.

 _She_ had been terrified. And he was terrified for her.

Finally, he couldn’t wait anymore. He touched her leg.

“Natasha,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You need to tell us what happened out there.”

She had the mug to her mouth, her hands clenched around it. She wasn’t looking at them. Instead she was staring at the ceiling, but at his words, she lowered her eyes to stare into his. 

Her expression was blank, completely neutral. Her eyes gave nothing away. 

“You’ve got to know,” Sam said quietly, “that even if you don’t tell us, we aren’t just going to let you walk out of here again. We’ll cuff you to a bed if we have to.”

She turned her head toward him at that, her lips barely curving upward in a tiny smirk.

“I might look like nothing,” Sam continued. He gestured to Steve. “But he’s stronger than you.”

This time they got a real smile. At least a hint of one.

“I know,” she whispered.

“And you know we want to help you, right?” Steve said.

A nod. Another whisper. “I know.”

“Tell us what happened, Natasha.”

She lowered her mug to her lap and sucked in a breath. She glanced back up at the ceiling, as though she couldn’t tell them if she was looking at them.

“I, umm … I saw someone,” she finally said.

“Who?” Sam asked.

“Someone from my past.” She didn’t continue.

“And you aren’t going to tell us who?” Sam guessed.

“No.”

“Okay,” Steve said quickly, before Sam could say another word. “When did you see him?”

She kept her eyes trained on the ceiling, and he realized the answer.

“The day of the funeral,” he said. “When you left.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I was going to go to New York. Maybe stay with Stark for a couple days. Find out where Barton is and go with him.”

She lifted one shoulder and dropped it, a resigned sort of shrug.

“I hadn’t gone far, but I had a feeling someone was following me. I couldn’t _see_ anyone, and I thought I was being paranoid, but I didn’t want to take chances. So I did what I always do when I don’t want to be caught and took measures.”

“But it didn’t work?” Steve guessed.

“I stopped off at a gas station,” she said. “Back roads, not anywhere on the path. No one around for miles. I went in, and he ….”

She trailed off. Steve squeezed her leg. He saw her square her shoulders. Just a hint of movement, but enough for him to notice.

“He was there,” she said. “I don’t know how or where he came from. But he was just there. Standing behind me.”

“What did you do?” Sam asked.

Natasha didn’t answer. Steve could tell she was purposely avoiding their eyes. “It’s okay,” he told her.

She shook her head. “It’s not. I froze,” she said. “He was there, and I … I just froze.” She trailed off. Steve could see her whole body tense. Everything about her screamed that she didn’t want to be talking about this.

“Did he try and fight you?” Sam asked. Steve could tell he also wanted to keep her talking.

She shook her head again. “No,” she finally said, and her voice was so soft, they both had to lean in to hear her. “He just said something.”

“Tell us,” Steve said when she didn’t go on.

He could tell she didn’t want to. The struggle, barely contained as it was, was written in her eyes. Trust them with her secret or keep it hidden.

She decided to trust them. When she spoke, her voice was different, lower, softer, more gravely.

“‘You can’t get away from me, Natalia. I told you I would find you.’” She paused. When she spoke again her voice was normal. “That’s what he said. In Russian.”

Steve tried not to react. _Natalia._ So he wasn’t just a man from her past. He was a man from her childhood. 

_Romanoff. Natalia Alianovna. Born nineteen eighty-four._

Zola had told him that. Not her. She had never told him about her life before SHIELD, but he knew more than he let on. If he was going to be partnered with this woman, he had wanted to know where she came from. He had seen her file, he had talked to Barton. He knew she had chosen to go by Natasha the day she became a SHIELD agent, to put a self-imposed distance between who she had been and who she wanted to be. 

But there were a lot of empty gaps in her file and in the information he had learned, a lot of secrets never filled in. He had always been fine with that, but right now, he knew without a doubt this man was one of those secrets.

And she was terrified of him.

The truth of that made Steve move his hand to her shoulder and squeeze gently.

Sam, for his part, looked slightly confused. He didn’t know what Steve knew about her.

“And then what?” Steve said to her now.

Natasha shrugged. “Then he was gone,” she said. “I don’t know …. He was there and then he wasn’t. And I …”

“You didn’t look for him?” Sam jumped in, almost incredulously.

“You came back here,” Steve guessed. 

Natasha nodded.

“Why?” Sam said.

Another shrug. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Steve suspected that wasn’t entirely the truth, but he didn’t push her. That wasn’t the important part right now. “So during the days,” he said, to try and get her focused again, “you were looking for him?”

She nodded. “Yes. I thought maybe I had imagined him. I wanted to know for sure.”

“You found him?” Sam said.

“No,” she said. “He found me.”

“Tonight,” Sam said, and she nodded. 

“I came back and he was here. I didn’t see him, not until I was on the doorstep, and then he grabbed my arm. He was …. stronger than I remember.”

“You fought him?” Sam said. It was a legitimate question. She looked like she’d been in a fight.

“Not at first. At first, I couldn’t move. I just … he grabbed me and I didn’t move. But then, later, I fought him. I got away. I ran.”

“To the Mall? Not to us?”

“He knew where I was staying. He knows about you. I couldn’t …”

She stopped again. She crossed her arms, protecting herself. From them, from the memories, Steve wasn’t sure.

“Go on,” Steve told her. “You did the right thing.”

She glared at him. “Don’t placate me,” she said.

“I’m not,” he said instantly. “You were scared and you did what you thought was right.”

“I shouldn’t have been scared,” she snapped.

“Everybody gets scared,” Steve said.

“I don’t.” She crossed her arms tighter. She looked like she wanted to bolt. This was not going very well.

Steve held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Just tell us what happened after you got to The Mall,” he said. “No judgments. But we can’t help you if you don’t tell us.”

“What if I don’t want your help?”

“If you didn’t want our help, you wouldn’t be here right now,” he said, deciding to go for honesty. “You wouldn’t have come back in the first place.”

That seemed to hit her. He saw her loosen her hold on herself just a touch, but she went back to staring at the ceiling before she spoke.

“Just tell us what happened,” Sam said. “You got to The Mall and …?”

“And I thought I could just blend in,” she said. “Stay out of the way until it got light and more people were around and it would be safe to leave.”

“But that didn’t happen,” Sam guessed.

She shook her head. “He was there. I thought I had gotten away, and then he was there. He grabbed me, he pinned me down …”

Steve saw her shudder as she remembered, and he wasn’t sure, but he thought she actually grew a little paler.

“He told me — ” Her voice changed here, back to the low, gravely tone she had used before — “‘You can’t get away from me, Natalia. I will always find you. You are mine.’” Her voice changed back. “I screamed. And I fought him. I got away, but he knocked me down again. He put his hand over my mouth. I thought …” She stopped talking.

“You thought what?” Sam said when she didn’t continue.

She lowered her eyes from where she had been staring at the ceiling and looked directly at Steve. He almost shivered. The fear he had seen when he found her by the tree was back.

“I thought that this was it,” she said. “I thought this was where he wins.”

“How did you get away?” Sam asked.

Natasha turned her head to look at him. “I didn’t,” she said, and her voice was so quiet. “I didn’t do anything. I just …. I didn’t do anything.”

“So he just left you?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t remember. One minute I was lying on the ground and then the next you were there.” She turned to Steve as she spoke. “I don’t remember.”

Steve studied her. He wasn’t completely sure he believed that. In fact, he was pretty sure she was lying to them about at least some of it. But he also wasn’t sure how much it mattered right now. The fear had been real. He had seen it. And she would never fake fear. The man was real. She wouldn’t have told them what she just had if he wasn’t. And those two things were the most important parts.

He reached out and took one of her hands, squeezing it.

“We’re going to figure this out, Nat, okay?” he said. “We’re a team.”

“Yeah,” she said, but she didn’t sound like she believed him. “Sure we are.”

•••

“So do you think she’s going to bolt?” Sam handed Steve a beer and sank down beside him in one of the empty kitchen chairs. Steve didn’t normally drink, but it felt like the right thing to do, even if he would never feel the effects. 

It was four in the afternoon, but they were being careful to be quiet. From the very corner of his eye, Steve could see red hair spilling over the pillow on the couch. She looked like she was still asleep, but this was Natasha. She could very well be listening to everything they said.

And if she was, he wanted her to trust them.

“No,” he said, and he meant that. 

“So you think she was telling us the truth?”

This time Steve turned to glance fully at her. Not a strand of hair moved. He turned back to Sam and took a swig of the beer.

“No,” he said, also honestly, and then clarified, “At least not all of the truth.”

“So you do believe her?”

“I do.” Steve paused. If she were listening … well, if she were listening, she would know if he lied anyway, so there was no point in denying it. “Well, I do for the most part anyway. I think she’s holding something back, but I believe what she told us really happened … I think she was telling us as much of the truth as she tells.”

“So what do we do now?”

“That I don’t know.” Steve took another swig of the beer.

“Any idea who Mystery Man is?”

 _Yes_ , Steve wanted to answer. Because he did. At least in a way. He had no idea of a specific name or even how he would ever track someone like that, but the things she had given them — what he said to her, the fear in her eyes — had him convinced. She would never be scared of a mark, and if he were an enemy of SHIELD out to get her, he would never have referred to her like that. So it was someone she knew. Someone she knew well. Someone she knew before she knew enough to turn off all her emotions.

If he were to wager a guess, it was someone who’d helped train her when she was just a child. But going by the fear in her eyes, it was also someone who had done more than that.

Steve didn’t really want to think about it. So instead he shook his head at Sam’s question.

“Not a clue.”

His eyes shifted over to the couch again. Natasha still hadn’t moved. But he had a strong suspicion she had heard him. Which he had wanted.

Now all he had to do was wait until she decided to talk.

Whenever that would be.

•••

Natasha followed Steve into bed that night. The rest of the afternoon and evening had been quiet, no one really knowing what to say and idle chatter just seeming wrong. So they ate dinner in silence while old movies played on the TV. Steve picked up his notepad to try and draw, but the only thing he ended up with was scribbles. Natasha had a book in her hands, but Steve noticed she never turned a page.

They were quiet when they slipped into bed, too. Usually she would come in after he was already partially asleep, but she didn’t wait this time. She lay down carefully on her back on the opposite side of the bed from him, almost a foot away from him, and didn’t move.

Steve sighed. “Nat,” he finally said softly. “Let me help you.”

She turned her head to look at him, her green eyes studying his face. “I try never to let people help me,” she said. 

“I know.”

He watched as her tongue flicked over her lips. She turned her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she said.

“I wasn’t going to ask you to.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I just want to hold you.”

He saw her lip quirk up. “Or have sex with me.”

“I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“What if I want to have sex?”

“Then Sam’s in the other room,” Steve told her. “But since you didn’t go in with him, I’m guessing that’s not what you want either.”

“Stop pretending to know what I want.”

“Stop pretending that everything I know about you is wrong.”

Again she turned to him. Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know me, Rogers,” she said, and he sensed a challenge in her tone. But he wasn’t up for the bait. Not tonight. Not after everything — waking up less than twenty-four hours ago to find her missing, the fear that something horrible had happened to her, the worry at seeing her tears, the horror of hearing her story. 

She could say whatever she wanted to him right now — he had long ago learned that Natasha always liked to feel like she was in control — but he was determined not to let it bother him. Not tonight. Whether she admitted it or not, she needed him and Sam, and he wasn’t going to let her push them away.

In this case, it was easy enough to let her win. “Fine, Natasha. I don’t know you. I’m going to sleep.” And he rolled over, away from her, and closed his eyes.

She was silent for a long time, long enough for him to feel the edges of sleep begin to take him. And then there it was. A slight dip in the mattress, the slight creak of movement.

He rolled back over, his nose almost colliding with hers. She’d gotten a lot closer than he’d realized. He smiled at her. Even in the dark, he saw her roll her eyes.

“Just because you asked so nicely,” she said.

He reached out his right arm, placed it over her back and tugged her in next to him. She dropped her head, fitting it between the curve of his neck and the point of his chin. He pulled the blanket up around both of them.

“Yeah,” he said. “I did ask nicely.”

•••

The first sign that something was wrong was Natasha kicking him hard in the leg. He shot straight up in bed, eyes wide, senses on alert, just in time to grab her arm as she aimed a punch at his head.

And then she screamed.

Loud, long, terrified.

It took him a few seconds to realize she was still asleep and there wasn’t actually anything attacking them. She screamed again and sent another kick his way as she tried to rip her arm back out of his grasp. Her skin felt clammy under his grip, and as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light in the room, he could see she was covered in a layer of sweat.

She rolled away from him, and the screams kept coming. 

Steve let go of her arm and laid a hand on her shoulder and carefully rolled her back over so he could see her face. He didn’t want to scare her more by waking her up too quickly — or embarrass her. He wasn’t sure if this was a common occurrence or not — but he also didn’t want to leave her trapped in the horror.

“Natasha,” he said loudly.

She screamed again, more high-pitched this time. Barely a second later, her eyes flew open, panic-filled and unseeing. On the other side of the room, the bedroom door swung open and Steve knew without looking it was Sam.

Steve leaned over Natasha so he was in her line of sight. His hands gripped her shoulders. He could feel her trembling beneath him. “Natasha,” he said gently. “Just breathe. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

It took a moment for her to register him, but then she gasped, “Steve?”

“You’re okay,” he said. “It was just a dream.”

Her eyes darted to the side, toward the window of the bedroom. “He’s out there.” Her voice was low, but there was a note of panic he had never heard before from her.

Steve shook his head. “No one’s there, Nat,” he said. “You were having a nightmare.”

“No,” she said. She shook her head. “ _He’s_ out there.”

“Nat,” Steve started but Sam interrupted. 

“I’ll go check,” Sam said. “Stay with her.” And then he disappeared back into the dark hall. 

On instinct, Steve reached up and brushed a sweat-soaked tendril of red hair off her forehead. His other hand was still grasping her left shoulder. Her eyes were still darting around the room, but her breathing had evened out.

“You want to tell me about it?” Steve said.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

She gave him half a smile. He brushed his fingers along the line of her cheekbone. It was such a strangely intimate moment. He wanted to lean down and kiss her, but instead he settled for finding her hand and slipping his fingers in hers. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Sam reappeared a few minutes later. “No trace of anything or anyone,” he said. He sounded almost apologetic.

Natasha opened her eyes and looked over at him, then she glanced at Steve. “I’m not imagining things,” she said. “I know he’s out there. He’s going to come back for me. I can’t stay here.”

Steve squeezed her hand and looked over at Sam, who nodded back at him.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “We know.”


End file.
